Retreat and Adapt

by Thomas DePrima

  "We could try to contact them and engage them in discussion, but we haven't been able to decode their transmissions. We don't even know what language they use, so it all sounds like gibberish."

  "A problem the Japanese had in World War II on Earth when trying to crack the communications of the 'code talkers.'

  "Ah, yes," Kanes said, "the Navajos who used their Native American language while functioning as radio operators in the Pacific theater of war. The Japanese never broke their code."

  "I assume you've tried universal language translation devices?"

  "Of course. It still sounds like gibberish. Even the computers think it's gibberish."

  "The Denubbewa have been able to take some of our people as prisoners," Jenetta said, "but we've never even seen one of them."

  "For all we know they may not even have a spoken language. They might communicate with sign language, thought transference, or something else. We know they transmit radio signals on the IDS band, so all we have to do is figure a way to keep them transmitting while we attack."

  "Yes, that's all we have to do," Jenetta said with a smile.

  * * *

  "Corporal, are you awake?" PFC Vincent Kilburn tried to project with his thoughts.

  "I hear you," Corporal Beth Rondara replied in the thought-communication process they were still refining. Lately, she had been trying to figure out how to shield thoughts she didn't want to share with others. It hadn't worked so far. Every idea that popped into her head was heard by Kilburn.

  "I can't take this anymore, Corporal. I want to die. All they do is keep stabbing us with needles to inject something and later take blood samples. We're just lab specimens to them."

  "What choice do we have?"

  "There must be a way to end our lives. You're smart. I've always been impressed by your intelligence. Since we became— linked— I've been even more impressed. You'll think of something."

  "I don't know, Kilburn. We no longer have arms or legs, and we're strapped down on these tiny beds. It's been proven that a human can't hold his breath long enough to die because he simply passes out and his body resumes normal respiration when his conscious mind shuts down temporarily."

  "Then you have been thinking about it?"

  "Not really. I learned that years ago."

  "There has to be a way. Will you at least think about it?"

  "Okay, I'll think about it."

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ~ November 24th, 2287 ~

  "Good Morning," Captain Zakir Singh of the DS destroyer Duluth said to the faces appearing on the large monitor in his office. The faces belonged to the captains of the scout-destroyers Gambia, Mekong, Nile, Rio Grande, and Yukon. "Now that we're all on station, I've established a rotation list for the flybys. The Nile and Yukon will deploy almost immediately to begin performing flybys on the mother ship still headed in this direction. The rest of us will perform flybys of the two mother ships sitting at the rendezvous point."

  "Sir," Commander Cody Morrow of the Mekong said, "is there any indication of what R2HQ might be planning to actually do about the enemy ships other than simply having us watch them?"

  "I've received no briefings about their plans— which is not to say that there are no plans." Singh sighed. "Listen, I'm as frustrated as all of you with the tasks we've been assigned over the past six months. All we've been doing is searching and watching. Now we're assigned to keep vigil over an enemy which we had previously been told to avoid at all costs.

  "We're all aching to do something to avenge our comrades aboard the Yenisei and Salado, but the facts indicate that the enemy is too strong— at this time. I've heard rumors that the scout-destroyer Tigris has remained enclosed in the ship transport Winston near Quesann for many months while modifications are being made to its hull. The speculation is that the engineers are testing materials that will make it impregnable to the weapons of the Denubbewa. I'm sure that the missile the Tagus found has been helpful in that regard. I know everyone involved in the search for an intact enemy missile was frustrated during months of searching for objects most of us believed must have self-destructed after the conflicts. But it's the small steps forward like that one that will help us defeat this enemy by preparing us for the giant leap forward.

  "If I could tell you what was being developed at Quesann and when we would be ready to take on the monsters that have invaded our territory, I would. For now, all we can do is keep an eye on them so that when the Second Fleet is ready to send them to Hell, we'll know from where they'll begin their journey."

  "That's good enough for me, sir," Morrow said. "I didn’t mean to suggest that we were intentionally being kept in the dark. It's as you say; we're just frustrated with sitting around waiting."

  "I believe you, Commander. And I’ll tell you another thing I believe with absolute certainty. Every resource Admiral Carver has at her disposal is being directed to preparing the defenses of our ships and developing weapons capable of destroying the invaders."

  * * *

  "I'm sorry, Admiral," Captain DeWitt said as soon as she had taken a seat in Jenetta's office, "but it appears that extending the range of the DeTect system is beyond our present capabilities. We're not going to be able to use it to drop the bombs with any accuracy."

  Jenetta breathed deeply and then released it before saying, "I'm disappointed, but I certainly don't blame you in any way, Barbara. I gave you what seemed to be an impossible task and can't be upset when we verify that it is truly impossible. When I asked you to take the job on, I knew you didn't have people trained in the discipline we required, but you took it on and made a remarkable attempt."

  "Thank you, Admiral. I didn't want to let you down."

  "You never have, Barbara."

  "What now, Admiral? We seem to be back at square one."

  "No, we're not back at square one. We're halfway to our goal. We have the bombs and the means of delivery. We simply need a way to put them on target— or rather in the target."

  "But without that means, the development of the bombs and all the work of preparing the Tigris was wasted effort."

  "Since the paths we've followed have led us to dead ends, it's simply time we take a different path."

  "I get the impression you have an idea where that new path might begin," DeWitt said.

  Jenetta smiled. "Well, I do have a kernel of an idea, but I'll need a lot of help to develop it. Any idea where I might find some weapons research people who might be willing to tackle a new project?"

  "Just point us in the direction you want us to go, Admiral."

  "Okay, here's the starting point. I was talking with Admiral Kanes yesterday and we discussed the problem with placing the bomb on the target. I told him you said we need three-point-four seconds of time for the targeting but that the four-billion-kilometer range of the DeTect system only gave us roughly one-point-three-six seconds before we had passed beyond the target.

  "He suggested that if the target is transmitting a radio signal, then we might be able to target the mother ship using that since IDS signals travel at eight-point-zero-nine billion kilometers per second. I seem to recall that when the Japanese pilots attacked Pearl Harbor and pulled the U.S. into World War Two, they used their ADF navigation devices to follow the commercial radio signals being broadcast from different towers around the islands of Hawaii. The planes left their carriers when the ships were well over the horizon, so the Automatic Direction Finders allowed them to follow the signals directly to the broadcast source. Of course, our problem would be getting the enemy to transmit a constant signal so we could follow it to the mother ship. Are you with me so far?"

  "Perfectly, Admiral. And I agree that if we could get the enemy to broadcast exactly when we wanted them to, we could use their IDS broadcast signal to target them. But if the signal is intermittent, it only provides a direction to a target, not the precise targeting signal we need. I can't imagine any way we can ensure we'll always have, or even occasionally
have, an IDS signal to follow."

  "I agree. There's no way we can depend on the enemy to broadcast exactly when we want. So I gave it some more thought and came up with a new idea, which was inspired by Admiral Kanes' idea. We use two DS ships to drop the bomb."

  Captain DeWitt's attention was focused on every word Jenetta was saying, but she didn't grasp the idea immediately. "Two ships to drop one bomb?"

  "Not literally. I was thinking that we have a targeting ship in the lead, with the bomber trailing. As soon as the lead ship passes through the target, it transmits the targeting data to the bomber. We'd probably want to keep the ships as close together as possible so the targeted ship doesn't have enough time to move or change course between the time the lead ship first gets a lock on it and the time the bomber can deposit its payload. You said you need three-point-four seconds for the drop, so I figure that the trailing ship should maintain an eight-billion-kilometer separation from the lead ship. With the four billion kilometers distance afforded by the DeTect system in the lead ship, the bomber will have four-point-one-one seconds before the drop."

  "So you're suggesting a setup like the towed sonar arrays introduced by Earth's wet navies back in the twenty-first century but without the physical tether, and where the ROV is actually playing an offensive role?"

  "Yes. What do you think?"

  "I think that if we can make it work, it's brilliant."

  "And what do you think the chances are that we can make it work?"

  With a grin, DeWitt said, "Substantially greater than the chances of reinventing the DeTect system. I'll have to think on it for a bit, but it sounds entirely feasible. The trailing vessel in the partnership will have to temporarily give up control to the lead vessel during the bomb run. In that respect it will be sort of like bombing missions in the twentieth century where the bombardier briefly took control of the plane until the bombs were released. In this case, it will be the tactical officer in the lead vessel who actually sends the signal to drop the bomb."

  "Now for the really difficult question. How long will it take to implement such a system?"

  "I'll have to get back to you on that, Admiral. The Propulsion and Helm computer system in SC vessels is specifically designed to prevent anyone outside the ship from taking control. We'll have to reprogram that system in the bomber so the lead vessel can take control without leaving the system open to access by any other vessel or party."

  "An encrypted code burned into circuit rods in both computers should solve that problem," Jenetta said.

  "Yes, but we'll have to ensure that it's completely foolproof and can be interrupted in an instant by the crew aboard the bomber."

  "Of course. What else will you need?"

  "I need the scout-destroyer that will act as the lead vessel. We'll have to modify the tac station to take control of the second ship and drop the bombs at the precise instant required."

  "I think the Ohio would be the best ship for the initial testing. I'll take care of that today. Anything else?"

  "I think we should begin work on additional ships to function as bombers. We have sufficient Dakinium cradles to prepare ten scout-destroyers as bombers. I believe we should have at least five, given the size and capability of the ships we're facing."

  "You believe in this new idea that much?"

  "I do. I'm embarrassed that neither I nor any of my team thought of it."

  "I'm sure you would have if you'd been searching for a solution instead of being totally absorbed in trying to make my Extended Range DeTect idea work."

  "I promise we'll make this one work, Admiral."

  "You have my full confidence, Barbara. Okay, let's get to work. The Winston is large enough to house a dozen scout-destroyers in its hold, so we'll have the engineers start the hull conversion work while you and your team work on the lead ship tactical station modifications and the reprogramming of the Propulsion Systems and Weapons Computer Systems aboard the trailing vessel."

  * * *

  Arthur Stephen Strauss, Deputy-Comptroller of MedZip Electronics, pressed his hand lightly against the palm plate and waited. A second later, the computer unlocked and opened the door to his penthouse suite. As he stepped inside, the lights remained at their dimmest setting instead of illuminating as programmed.

  "Lights up," Strauss said loudly as the door closed behind him. When the lights continued to remain dim, Strauss said loudly, "Computer, why are the lights so dim?"

  "The lights are illuminated according to their established setting, sir," he heard through small speakers discreetly disguised in the room.

  "No, they're not. I want them at normal room illumination levels. Change them now."

  "Please state your password, sir."

  "Password? Computer. What's wrong with you? Perform a self test."

  "Please state your password, sir."

  "Computer, you're malfunctioning. Perform a self test."

  "Please state your password, sir."

  Strauss walked to a wall switch and manually raised the light level. As he did, he realized he wasn't alone in the room. Turning quickly, he focused on the intruder. It appeared to be a man, but he couldn't be sure because the person was wearing a heavy, fully buttoned, black winter coat. The black slacks visible below the coat's bottom edge, plus black leather loafers and a dark grey homburg with a wide brim were responsible for the gender assumption. A light grey scarf concealed all but the intruder's eye. "Who are you?" Strauss asked angrily.

  The man, sitting in Strauss's favorite chair in the corner of the room, chuckled. "Just an old friend."

  "Really?" Strauss said, with scorn in his voice. "And how did you get in here, old friend?"

  "It was a simple matter. I just asked your computer politely to let me enter. It was very accommodating."

  "Bullshit. My computer is keyed to my voice. It wouldn't have let you or anyone else into this apartment." Strauss had been drifting slowly towards the fireplace and rested his arm on the mantle as he said, "Computer, identify the stranger in this room."

  "There is no stranger in the room."

  "See, the computer knows me," the unidentified man said.

  In one swift move, Strauss lifted the cover of a decorative box on the mantle and pulled out a small pistol. Aiming it at the visitor's face, he said, "Show me your face, old friend, or else."

  The visitor chuckled. "Or else what?"

  "I shall shoot it off."

  The man chuckled again. "Go ahead."

  "You want me to shoot?"

  "No, I want you to try. You see, I removed the power cartridge from your little popgun earlier."

  Strauss looked down at the gun in his hand and then at the unidentified visitor before squeezing the trigger. Nothing happened. In disgust, Strauss threw the pistol into the fireplace.

  The visitor chuckled again. "You think I wouldn't have searched this place while I was waiting for you to arrive?"

  Strauss's eyes flicked momentarily to his bedroom door.

  "It's not there," the stranger said.

  "What's not there?"

  "The pistol in the nightstand drawer— or the one behind the hidden panel in the closet— whichever you were thinking about."

  Strauss exhaled noisily through his nose. It wasn't quite a snort, but his exasperation was obvious.

  The stranger raised his hand slightly, until then hidden by a fold in his coat. The hand was holding Strauss's nightstand pistol.

  "That won't work for you," Strauss said. "It's keyed to my body."

  "Really," the visitor said. Aiming the pistol at a small statuette on a shelf of a bookcase, he pulled the trigger. A beam shot out and melted a hole through the figurine. "It seems to be working."

  The sneering look on Strauss's face had disappeared in a heartbeat and then turned to one of fear. He knew now that the intruder was armed. "That's impossible," he said, his voice not much more than a hoarse whisper.

  "And yet it happened," the outsider said.

  "How did you do
that?"

  "You saw. I simply aimed and pulled the trigger."

  "The pistol was custom made especially for me. It couldn't be altered. The pistol grips are keyed to my body chemistry. "

  "They just don't make things like they used to, I guess." Aiming the pistol at Strauss, the intruder said, "I can do it again if you'd like another demonstration."

  "Who are you, dammit?" Strauss shouted.

  "All in good time, Arthur."

  "Computer, call my bodyguards," Strauss suddenly shouted in an effort to get the words out before the stranger could stop him.

  The unknown visitor chuckled as the computer said, "Please state your password, sir."

  "It's no use," the intruder said, "You can't summon your gorillas tonight. But they'll be in the building lobby waiting for you in the morning. When you don't show on time, they'll start trying to reach you and eventually come up here looking for you. When they're unable to contact you, they'll attempt to break in. It will take quite a bit to get in here, though. You've seen to that."

  "How are you doing this?" Strauss screamed at the visitor. The room was so well soundproofed that his voice would never carry beyond the walls or the floor.

  "Feeling a bit disconnected from your usual life-and-death power over almost everyone else on the planet?"

  "What do you want? Is it money you're after?" With desperation clearly evident in his voice he said, "I have money."

  The stranger chuckled and asked, "How much are you offering?"

  "What am I buying?"

  "Your life, perhaps."

  "Perhaps?"

  "I haven't heard an amount yet. What's your life worth to you, Arthur?"

  "What's it worth to you?"

  "How about— a trillion credits?"

  "A trillion? You're mad."

  The stranger chuckled. "The look on your face is priceless. It's been worth all the effort it took to set this up."

  "Look, I can swing a million."